I clenched my teeth and jerked the steering wheel in my hands to the right, pulling onto the gravel shoulder. “Okay, Michael,” I said. “Let’s have it.”
The adolescent at my side drew his head higher: it reminded me of a turtle he had once had as a pet. “Huh? What?”
“Come on, kid. You’ve been hang-dogged and mopey since the moment I mentioned meeting Mark for dinner tonight. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he barely whispered, his head lowering again. “I shouldn’t have . . .”
I sighed and turned to face my son more directly. “Look, guy,” I said, deliberately softening my tone. “We’ve always talked things out, right? Since the day you learned to talk, we’ve worked through things together. You turn thirteen, and you think that’s going to stop? No way, kid. What’s the problem?”
Michael raised his head and met my eyes. I thought he might be fighting tears for a moment but resisted the urge to hug him the way I could when he was much smaller. I waited. “I guess I feel weird, a little, around Mark.”
“Oh.” Of course: Mark. How dumb of me. I should have guessed weeks ago when Mark and I began to date. Michael thinks I won’t understand.
The year I started the fashion design track at the university, every time I looked, Cathy was there. She was there on Tuesday, in fleece and jeans, holding hands with my father as they started out on a long evening stroll. She was there on Friday, in flowing black silk, sipping a glass of wine after the symphony. She was there on Sunday, in cashmere and corduroy, making pot roast and carrots in my mother’s kitchen. She was nothing like my mother.
I owed my creative genius and my future career to my mother. She had enchanted me with a miniature, pink and white Hello Kitty sewing machine for Christmas the year I was seven. We used to spend hours together in fabric stores, where she taught me how to spot quality materials. My favorite memories of her still are the afternoons when I sat beside her in her sewing room, our machines humming in harmony as we stitched. I felt her presence there years after the stroke that took her from me so suddenly. When I sat in her place at her sewing machine, continuing to create illusions out of fabric and thread even in her absence, the happiness and the comfort that were my mother remained.
Cathy’s increasingly frequent presence in the house was jarring to me. Bringing women into our home was not something that my father did—at least, not before Cathy. We hadn’t needed outsiders since Mom’s death; we depended on each other. I liked going to the grocery with Dad on Saturday mornings and reminding him of the things I knew we needed but he always forgot. I liked skipping church on Sundays sometimes in favor of going out for a leisurely brunch and an afternoon movie that he always liked to call a “matinee.” Sometimes, when I thought about growing up and going to college, I felt guilty. I wondered how Dad would manage on his own.
To be fair, I have to admit that he had tried to prepare me. I have some vague memories of him talking about some woman that he met on an interview for the magazine where he worked. Still, the first time I met Cathy, I felt a little hijacked. The first thing I really noticed about her wasn’t her size or her hair: It was her suit. I remember the soft beige wool and the way it draped around her. The fabric was finely woven and clearly expensive, and I recall admiring the tailoring that had gone into the suit’s design. I barely remember anything we said. Beyond the fact that we were in a restaurant for dinner, I cannot even recall where we were. I had two thoughts in my head: one, that Dad was probably going to marry this stranger some day; and, two, that she at least had some appreciation for finer clothing.
When he finally decided to propose to Cathy after almost two years of “courtship,” as he called it, he made up his mind without asking me. I had always thought that she was only around because I had kept my mouth shut about her. Sometimes, when she seemed too comfortable in the kitchen or when she wandered into the sewing room to talk to me as I worked on a project, I wanted so badly to let her know that the power to force my father to throw her out was all mine. I never said it aloud; I kept it to myself; but when I was really irritated, I could hear the voice in my head, screaming, “I can make him leave you any time I want.” I was a little less sure of that power after he asked her to marry him.
I was Cathy’s only bridesmaid, in spite of the fact that she had sisters and friends that she could have asked who would have helped her more. The wedding was planned just before my senior capstone project, which would take me to New York for several months, and I was inundated with designs and assignments in the flurry of activity leading up to my departure. Dad had once hinted that Cathy might enjoy it if I would design our gowns as a wedding gift. I think the first time I ever really felt grateful to her was when she defended my refusal to do it. She told Dad that it wasn’t fair to put one more burden on me, but the truth was that I didn’t want to be that invested in the event.
Their wedding day was so filled with tension that even the air felt electric. Dad had been packing and repacking his worn leather suitcase all morning and nearly forgot to load it into the trunk before we drove to the church. He dressed, then he undressed before deciding that maybe he would wear his tuxedo to the church after all and dressed again. As he slipped the car key into the ignition and I settled into the passenger seat, he patted my leg. “What lives we have ahead of us, Dana, my girl,” he said.
“Just be happy, Daddy,” I heard myself say, in spite of the fact that I hadn’t called him ‘Daddy’ in years. We drove off in the direction of the church, my father humming bits of tunes in place of conversation.
I settled my bags and boxes on the seat of the Bride’s Room’s solitary armchair, glad to have some place to put them. A table in the corner held a portable lighted makeup mirror and a few bottles of water. Two mismatched dining chairs were tucked beneath the table. The long mirrors fitted to the opposite wall made the room feel more light and larger than it really was.
In this compacted space, the opportunity to dress while I was still alone seemed like the best plan. I wiggled out of my old clothes and drew the bridesmaid’s dress from its garment bag. The gown slithered deliciously over me. I loved the texture of the satin against my legs and the sheen of the fabric at my bust. My complexion seemed truly porcelain contrasted against the deep blue of my dress as I watched my own transformation in the long mirror before me. I loved the way I looked.
Cathy’s gown hung from the high rack near the table. It was much like mine: the same luxurious satin, ice blue, higher at the neckline and more sophisticated in style. As I rummaged through one of the boxes, I conceded to a grudging admiration of her taste in clothing. In much the same way, I felt obligated to tolerate Cathy, herself. I drew some comfort from knowing that I was moving out as she moved into Dad’s house. At least I would never need to live with her.
I located the poster board and the marker that I had packed, and sat down at the table to compose some appropriate decoration for the back of Dad’s car. I suppose my attitude had kept me from starting this project earlier, although I told myself that I was hoping for a more creative idea than “Just Married” in black block letters on white cardboard. The marker’s top flipped out of my hand as I uncapped it, and it rolled across the floor. As I clenched the barrel between my teeth and bent to retrieve it, I felt the marker pull against my lips. I knew before I looked that it had to have touched Cathy’s gown.
A black track nearly two inches long displayed itself across the side of the dress. I felt my heart pound. My hands grew cold and damp. Cathy would never believe that this was an accident. And Dad—would he side with her? I strained to think of any way to make it right: acetone. Fingernail polish remover. Maybe she would never need to know. I snatched my makeup bag from the armchair; in it, I found two foil wrapped pads. I tore one open and began to work on the dress. The black seemed to fade, and the mark began to feather into a wider but more subtle defacement. I was earnest and intent when the door flew open behind me.
“Dana!” Cathy said. “What happened here?” She stood in the doorway, her arms filled with our bouquets. When I turned to face her, I knew that she had seen what I had done by the look on her face. Her lips seemed thin; her color paled; the flesh around her mouth was drawn tight. Her eyes were direct and unavoidable. The silence in the moment that I took to form an answer screamed with accusation.
“I swear it was an accident,” I said, my voice thin and barely a whisper. “I- uh, I was trying . . .” Coherent thoughts just would not form. “Oh, my God, Cathy, I’m so sorry.” I started to tremble.
Somehow, the flowers found their way to the table and I found myself crying and embraced in Cathy’s arms. Words describing what I had done stammered from my lips while Cathy gently calmed me. “You must be totally disgusted with me,” I finally finished.
“Oh, Dana,” she began. She stepped away from me and took my hands in hers. “It was an accident. Of course I wish that it hadn’t happened. Of course I wish that it could be repaired. But disgusted?” She shook my hands just a little as she spoke. “We’re becoming family today. Of course I forgive you.” She smiled gently and lightly squeezed my fingers. “Now, would you help me get dressed?”
I wasn’t sure I should believe her, even as I watched her unfasten the clothes she wore. I was sure that the gown would look hideous, as I unzipped the dress, removed it from its hanger and handed it to her. I worried that I had ruined her wedding, while I watched her slip into the garment that I was responsible for marring. She took up her bouquet, stepped into her shoes and twirled before me, asking what I thought. I thought she was beautiful. I didn’t notice a single flaw.
Sunset was beginning to wash the sky as I finished my story. Michael had sat perfectly still as I spoke, his hands unusually motionless in his lap. He turned to look at me; I thought for a moment that he was smiling. “You were a renegade, Mom,” he said. “I never knew that stuff about you and Grandma Cathy.”
“Yeah, well, you can’t go around thinking that I don’t understand things.”
“Does this mean that you and Mark are getting married?”
“God, no,” I replied. “I don’t know what might happen with Mark. We’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks, and we’re not even close to thinking about anything more. Look: See, the thing is; I like Mark. I think he likes us. It seems like we have a choice to enjoy people around us instead of just living in a hole.”
Michael had become quiet again.
“I don’t think I like holes very much,” I said.
“Yeah,” he answered. “Don’t you think we’re going to be late for dinner?”
Friday, December 5, 2008
Mother like Daughter
Mother Like Daughter
I never realized how independent I was until I started dating a guy named Clyde. I found myself in a serous situation trying to change the type of person that I was and that I have been for years since my mother had passed. But realizing that I had a good man on my side, that never knew my personal issues and always tried helping me out when I am in need for help. But so that I am a very independent woman it is hard for me to receive anything from anyone. But see that’s the whole problem here, Clyde makes this a very big issue in our relationship. So that I do care and love him dearly I feel the best thing to do is explain to him what I once went through that makes me this way. Then maybe we would have some type of understanding and our relationship would be a little better than it already is.
“Heaven… Sweetie, what is the problem with you? I realized since we have been together I have tried and tried to help you out when you get in financial debt problems.
“Clyde I just… I don’t know.”
“I think that you do know what the problem is, but just don’t know how to get it off of your chest. I think that you have a chip on your shoulder and need to sit down and talk about it. I am your man, been your man now for nine months and a half. I feel that it is my responsibility to look out for you when you are in need, and not only when you’re in need. But when I’m willing to help you out I should be able to, without you not wanting to accept anything from me. I love you and everything about you, so let’s talk, and let me know how you are feeling and what’s going on, or at least tell me if there is something in your past that makes you this way.”
The two of them were standing in Heaven’s living room, next to the fire place. “It’s really nothing that important Clyde; I am 25 years old and am just a very independent woman that can hold up my own, regardless of what the situation is. I never look for anyone to hold out a gifting hand for me, because that is something that I never had before. Mainly, after dealing with the situation five years ago with my mother Belinda and my little sister Goddess; we once fell down but got back up. But it was a struggle for us all, mainly for me and Goddess”
Clyde and Heaven stood in the middle of her lovely cherry wood floors in her living room. Holding hands and staring one another into their brown compelling eyes. “Ok…Come over here baby. I want you to sit down on this coach, relax, and talk to me. Tell me the struggle you once experienced, because I will work with you and make you a changed woman. Maybe I can make you feel better about what happened in the past, and we move forward as one together. Talk to me Heaven.”
My father never was around just because he was a dead beat; he missed out on all the good things in life when it came to me and Goddess. I guess he thought my mother just wasn’t good enough for him. My mother said he cheated on her several times throughout their relationship. Once she had Goddess he continued on with his same old bull shit. My mother moved on with her life, which he gave five fucks about. My mother raised us all on her own, and did a great job because Goddess and I both are two beautiful women who are strong just like our mother. We never had all the things that we wanted. My mother made sure we had what it was that we needed the most. Goddess and I had always shared rooms because my mom couldn’t afford a three bedroom apartment, only two at the most and she struggled trying to keep a roof over our heads. My mom was an employee at Jergens Lotion Company, where she had got laid off several times when work slowed down.
“But Clyde my mother always made a way.”
At the time Goddess was only 14 years old and I was 18 soon going on 19. Since I was the oldest I held up most of the responsibility during this point of time, mainly that I had a little part time job working at McDonalds and still was in school. No family was around. Everyone had moved back down south where my mom and her brothers and sisters are from. Mom just had some wealthy friends, well better I say associates; because my mother didn’t really comment her self to anyone as being their friend. She was fucked over so many times by different people and being the good person that she is she trust people too quick. After so many experiences with several people she dealt with, she eventually decided to just associate with people and keep her distance from a far. My mom had started missing lots of days of work. I didn’t know why and never attempted to question my mother about anything because I knew there was a reason for everything that my mother had done, mainly when she was missing days of work. Every morning I got Goddess together for school. We both had to be at school at the same time and out at the same time which was good for the both of us. One afternoon after school Goddess and I walked through the door and saw our mother lying on the floor crying.
“Mom, Mom, Mom. What’s wrong are you ok, are you ok?” I said, with tears in my eyes.
Mom looked terrible. Face was as red as a apple, and she was holding her stomach with her pale hands. “No Heaven… Call 911. Right now. Hurry!”
“Goddess stay here, don’t you move. Stay right next to her. I will be right back.”
We didn’t have a house phone because it had got cut off because mom hadn’t been to work to get any bills paid. So I rushed next door to the neighbors’ house to use the phone and called 911. When I ran back to the house my mom’s skin looked like snake skin. Her eyes were as puffy as an air balloon with dark circles around them, and she kept saying that she could hardly see. She felt as if she was going blind. I was afraid, and I had to be strong and keep Goddess calm and positive about everything. The ambulance arrived. They took my mother’s blood pressure it was extremely high, and by the looks of her face they rushed her to the hospital. Me and Goddess came along. We had no other choice. The nurse came into the room saw my mother and they admitted her right away.
“Mamm, excuse me. Can you tell me what the problem with my mother is? Why are you all keeping her?” I said, crying my heart out, afraid, more than anything.
“Young lady please calm down. We are not sure what is wrong with your mother; this is why we are admitting her. As of right now her blood pressure is too high we will admit her and run test’s as soon as we can,” the nurse explained, rapping her arm around my shoulders.
All I kept thinking was that I was going to lose my mother. Goddess had to go to school the next morning, so we didn’t sleep over at the hospital. I had a couple of dollars in my purse so we got the metro home. All I could think was my mother wasn’t going to make it and was going to leave me and Goddess behind. Where were me and Goddess going to end up? I didn’t know, I was stunned and afraid. When Goddess and I walked through the door, I went to hit the light switch and it wouldn’t turn on, and the food in the refrigerator was spoiled. Good thing we had several candles around the house. I had to light some candles till the next morning. I decided to let Goddess stay with me and we both missed school and of course I had to miss another day of work. We went up to the hospital the next day to see our mother and before walking out the door I saw that the landlord had slipped an eviction notice up under our door, giving my mom a heads up that she was a month behind on rent so she had to be out in two weeks. I left the paper on the floor and headed up to the hospital. Goddess was hungry. I was, too, but, I only had so much money, and I had to stretch it. My little sister came first at all times. We stopped by the nearest restaurant and got Goddess something to eat.
When Goddess and I got to the hospital they had moved my mother to the ICU. They said that she was doing a little worse than she was when she first arrived. I walked into the room where three of her friends were, Ms. Lavern and Mr. and Mrs. Phillips. I don’t know how they found out about my mother being there, nor were I really concerned because that was the last thing on my mind. My mother looked terrible. She was hooked to all types of machines, tubes down her throat, IV’s in her arms, the side of her neck, and oxygen in her nose I guess to help her breathe since she wasn’t doing it on her own.
I grabbed my mother’s hand and rubbed them softly to see if she could possible wake up and talk to me just for a few seconds and she did.
“Hi mom,” I said kissing her on her check. She smiled softly.
“Hi Heaven baby, I miss you and Goddess both. I am feeling so terrible. Feel even worse when I realize I am in this place and have to be away from my babies.”
“Yeah Mom I understand. But when you get well we will be perfectly fine and back to the way we were before.”
“Ha. Yeah you got that right. I want you both to behave and be respectful to Mrs.Phillips. I want you to be strong for me regardless of what the situation turns out to be. Positive actions and thinkers is the key to life and that’s what I want to do and be. Make sure Goddess have a understanding of everything and tell her keep the grades up in school, and that I understand she doesn’t want to see her mother this way.”
I was a lilt afraid but I knew that my mother would only want to see the best and know that I was going to be all right. I knew letting her see me down and crying will only make her more worried and weaker about everything so I held up pretty good.
“Hello Girls!” Said Mrs. Phillips hugging me and Goddess. Your mother gave me a call last night when they admitted her into the hospital, after you two left. I will be taking you two home with me until your mother get better and get settled. I will not see you two out on the streets.”
“Yes! Thank God. I am so glad that you showed up. I didn’t think anyone would have found out are shown up.”
“Well your mother was already aware of all that, from what she told me last night. She has been sick for several days now just was afraid of the outcome and didn’t want to have you worried about her so she stayed home and didn’t want to go to the hospital. Then all of a sudden early this morning she turned for the worse, and they still have not found out what is wrong with her. Tests are still in progress.”
Mrs. Phillips was this very wealthy friend of my mom’s. There were times she tried helping my mother out, but my mom being the person that she was she always held her own. That was the first time I knew for her to ever call her friend for anything, which told me something wasn’t right. I then knew and had funny feelings mainly after seeing my mother laying in that bed looking the way she did. Mrs. Phillips didn’t have any children of her own. It was just her and her husband living in a very big nice house, a glass house at that. It felt like my life was golden when we moved with them. The house was too big for just two people to live in. She had a maid and everything. I mean it was lovely, I never knew are seen anything like it except for on the cribs television show. But so that I was old enough to make my own decisions, I decided to just work and to not attend school. My whole focus was to work full time and save up some money, take care of Goddess, and make sure she attended school every day.
Mrs. Phillips was very nice to me and my sister; she knew what type of situation we were in and just let me go with what I had to do, and at the time working and taking care of Goddess was important to me. Every day, for six months straight it was the same routine. I got up took Goddess to the bus stop, and I headed to work, worked eight hours a day, got Goddess off of the school bus, made sure Goddess ate dinner and finished any homework that needed to be done, and we headed to the hospital to see our mother. She was still sick and trying to get well. This was a lot on me but I guess it just was a part of my mother that was inside of me. I knew that God wouldn’t put too much on me that I couldn’t bare. He was the angel beside me that gave me the strength and the positive power to get through all this the way that I did. Thank God for the extra help from Mrs. Phillips to give us a place to lay our heads.
After Six months being the mother and sister to Goddess and praying for my mother, one evening I went to the hospital alone. I left Goddess back at the house to do some studying and things like that. She wasn’t really able to handle seeing our mother like that anyway. Most of the time she waited in the waiting area. I walked into the ICU room that my mother had been in for six months. They had her in the room for such long time because they had to keep a close eye on her heart rate and blood pressure and things of that nature and she still really wasn’t breathing on her own. I realized that my mother’s eyes were open, and was on one less machine which made me happy.
“Hi Baby! I am so happy to see you,” My mother said, with a dry mouth, and a cracking voice.
“Hello mom, I am so happy to see that you are off one machine. Just want to let you know I have been handling things to the best of my ability. Goddess is still doing great in school. Mrs. Phillips been very nice. I don’t ask her for anything but she always offers. We miss you and love you so much; we want you to get better so that we can all be back together again. In the house playing cards, watching our favorite TV shows together, and the most important eating your wonderful cooking”
“I’m trying…Stay strong baby. Mommy will look over you two, I’m tired Heaven. The doctors finally figured out that I have a blood disorder disease called Lupus. I kept having different reactions to different medications and really haven’t made too much progress to do anything on my own so that’s why I been in ICU the whole time. It bothers people in many different ways like your bones, skin, and our immune system is as low as a new born baby. I sat around too long which caused it to trigger and also stress is what caused mine to trigger and they couldn’t…”
My mother’s eyes then shut. With all the machines beeping loud, heart rate dropped, thousand of doctors charging into her room. I felt it coming; I knew my mother was going to leave me and Goddess behind. My mother was tired. It felt wonderful to have those last words with my mother. I walked out of the room with calm intentions. Didn’t know how I was going to explain this to Goddess. We did a lot with our mother. She loved us like no one else would. She was my best friend, soul sister, and my mother.
Sitting in Heaven’s living room, Heaven sheds tears on Clyde’s shoulders. While Clyde holds and comforts her and kisses her on her forehead. “Clyde, I went from there. I had to be strong and continue on with my life. But receiving anything from anyone wasn’t never available for me, and that was what turned me out to be more and more like my mother, an independent woman. I kept my job, kept Goddess in school; she’ll be now entering college at College of Mount St. Joseph for Nursing. I’m so proud of her! I got a low budget apartment that went by my income; Goddess and I were back on track with our lives. We still keep in touch with Mrs. Phillips. She was a very big help and support group for us two. She helped furnish our place, and still helped me support Goddess in college. Here I am today nice apartment, nice car, and of course a wonderful job working for P&G.”
“Well… Baby I understand your pain and the struggle you went through. But remember Heaven… We are in this together. I am here for you, and I see why you are such a independent women which is a good thing. But never be afraid to receive help from someone that is willing to help you. I love you Heaven!”
“I love you too Clyde, and really appreciate your support. This is something I am just used to doing things all on my own, you know. Not having any family around to call on, no support system period. You will probably be this way also. Thank God for sending Mrs. Phillips to me and my sister, and giving us a place to eat and sleep! Baby this just the way I am, and I will try to overcome being this way just for you.”
“No problem, I just want you to get out the shell thinking you’re on your own with no one by your side, because I’m here and I am going to always be by your side. So take my hand and let’s ride down to the park and chill and relax in the shade,” Clyde, said sweetly kissing me on my forehead.
I then knew that change had to be made, and from the time Clyde and I had a wonderful talk I have changed. I have opened up a lot more and become a better person and it made Clyde happy also overall. I have come to realize that a helping hand is not too bad to receive. Our relationship has gotten so much better and I love Clyde with all my heart!
I never realized how independent I was until I started dating a guy named Clyde. I found myself in a serous situation trying to change the type of person that I was and that I have been for years since my mother had passed. But realizing that I had a good man on my side, that never knew my personal issues and always tried helping me out when I am in need for help. But so that I am a very independent woman it is hard for me to receive anything from anyone. But see that’s the whole problem here, Clyde makes this a very big issue in our relationship. So that I do care and love him dearly I feel the best thing to do is explain to him what I once went through that makes me this way. Then maybe we would have some type of understanding and our relationship would be a little better than it already is.
“Heaven… Sweetie, what is the problem with you? I realized since we have been together I have tried and tried to help you out when you get in financial debt problems.
“Clyde I just… I don’t know.”
“I think that you do know what the problem is, but just don’t know how to get it off of your chest. I think that you have a chip on your shoulder and need to sit down and talk about it. I am your man, been your man now for nine months and a half. I feel that it is my responsibility to look out for you when you are in need, and not only when you’re in need. But when I’m willing to help you out I should be able to, without you not wanting to accept anything from me. I love you and everything about you, so let’s talk, and let me know how you are feeling and what’s going on, or at least tell me if there is something in your past that makes you this way.”
The two of them were standing in Heaven’s living room, next to the fire place. “It’s really nothing that important Clyde; I am 25 years old and am just a very independent woman that can hold up my own, regardless of what the situation is. I never look for anyone to hold out a gifting hand for me, because that is something that I never had before. Mainly, after dealing with the situation five years ago with my mother Belinda and my little sister Goddess; we once fell down but got back up. But it was a struggle for us all, mainly for me and Goddess”
Clyde and Heaven stood in the middle of her lovely cherry wood floors in her living room. Holding hands and staring one another into their brown compelling eyes. “Ok…Come over here baby. I want you to sit down on this coach, relax, and talk to me. Tell me the struggle you once experienced, because I will work with you and make you a changed woman. Maybe I can make you feel better about what happened in the past, and we move forward as one together. Talk to me Heaven.”
My father never was around just because he was a dead beat; he missed out on all the good things in life when it came to me and Goddess. I guess he thought my mother just wasn’t good enough for him. My mother said he cheated on her several times throughout their relationship. Once she had Goddess he continued on with his same old bull shit. My mother moved on with her life, which he gave five fucks about. My mother raised us all on her own, and did a great job because Goddess and I both are two beautiful women who are strong just like our mother. We never had all the things that we wanted. My mother made sure we had what it was that we needed the most. Goddess and I had always shared rooms because my mom couldn’t afford a three bedroom apartment, only two at the most and she struggled trying to keep a roof over our heads. My mom was an employee at Jergens Lotion Company, where she had got laid off several times when work slowed down.
“But Clyde my mother always made a way.”
At the time Goddess was only 14 years old and I was 18 soon going on 19. Since I was the oldest I held up most of the responsibility during this point of time, mainly that I had a little part time job working at McDonalds and still was in school. No family was around. Everyone had moved back down south where my mom and her brothers and sisters are from. Mom just had some wealthy friends, well better I say associates; because my mother didn’t really comment her self to anyone as being their friend. She was fucked over so many times by different people and being the good person that she is she trust people too quick. After so many experiences with several people she dealt with, she eventually decided to just associate with people and keep her distance from a far. My mom had started missing lots of days of work. I didn’t know why and never attempted to question my mother about anything because I knew there was a reason for everything that my mother had done, mainly when she was missing days of work. Every morning I got Goddess together for school. We both had to be at school at the same time and out at the same time which was good for the both of us. One afternoon after school Goddess and I walked through the door and saw our mother lying on the floor crying.
“Mom, Mom, Mom. What’s wrong are you ok, are you ok?” I said, with tears in my eyes.
Mom looked terrible. Face was as red as a apple, and she was holding her stomach with her pale hands. “No Heaven… Call 911. Right now. Hurry!”
“Goddess stay here, don’t you move. Stay right next to her. I will be right back.”
We didn’t have a house phone because it had got cut off because mom hadn’t been to work to get any bills paid. So I rushed next door to the neighbors’ house to use the phone and called 911. When I ran back to the house my mom’s skin looked like snake skin. Her eyes were as puffy as an air balloon with dark circles around them, and she kept saying that she could hardly see. She felt as if she was going blind. I was afraid, and I had to be strong and keep Goddess calm and positive about everything. The ambulance arrived. They took my mother’s blood pressure it was extremely high, and by the looks of her face they rushed her to the hospital. Me and Goddess came along. We had no other choice. The nurse came into the room saw my mother and they admitted her right away.
“Mamm, excuse me. Can you tell me what the problem with my mother is? Why are you all keeping her?” I said, crying my heart out, afraid, more than anything.
“Young lady please calm down. We are not sure what is wrong with your mother; this is why we are admitting her. As of right now her blood pressure is too high we will admit her and run test’s as soon as we can,” the nurse explained, rapping her arm around my shoulders.
All I kept thinking was that I was going to lose my mother. Goddess had to go to school the next morning, so we didn’t sleep over at the hospital. I had a couple of dollars in my purse so we got the metro home. All I could think was my mother wasn’t going to make it and was going to leave me and Goddess behind. Where were me and Goddess going to end up? I didn’t know, I was stunned and afraid. When Goddess and I walked through the door, I went to hit the light switch and it wouldn’t turn on, and the food in the refrigerator was spoiled. Good thing we had several candles around the house. I had to light some candles till the next morning. I decided to let Goddess stay with me and we both missed school and of course I had to miss another day of work. We went up to the hospital the next day to see our mother and before walking out the door I saw that the landlord had slipped an eviction notice up under our door, giving my mom a heads up that she was a month behind on rent so she had to be out in two weeks. I left the paper on the floor and headed up to the hospital. Goddess was hungry. I was, too, but, I only had so much money, and I had to stretch it. My little sister came first at all times. We stopped by the nearest restaurant and got Goddess something to eat.
When Goddess and I got to the hospital they had moved my mother to the ICU. They said that she was doing a little worse than she was when she first arrived. I walked into the room where three of her friends were, Ms. Lavern and Mr. and Mrs. Phillips. I don’t know how they found out about my mother being there, nor were I really concerned because that was the last thing on my mind. My mother looked terrible. She was hooked to all types of machines, tubes down her throat, IV’s in her arms, the side of her neck, and oxygen in her nose I guess to help her breathe since she wasn’t doing it on her own.
I grabbed my mother’s hand and rubbed them softly to see if she could possible wake up and talk to me just for a few seconds and she did.
“Hi mom,” I said kissing her on her check. She smiled softly.
“Hi Heaven baby, I miss you and Goddess both. I am feeling so terrible. Feel even worse when I realize I am in this place and have to be away from my babies.”
“Yeah Mom I understand. But when you get well we will be perfectly fine and back to the way we were before.”
“Ha. Yeah you got that right. I want you both to behave and be respectful to Mrs.Phillips. I want you to be strong for me regardless of what the situation turns out to be. Positive actions and thinkers is the key to life and that’s what I want to do and be. Make sure Goddess have a understanding of everything and tell her keep the grades up in school, and that I understand she doesn’t want to see her mother this way.”
I was a lilt afraid but I knew that my mother would only want to see the best and know that I was going to be all right. I knew letting her see me down and crying will only make her more worried and weaker about everything so I held up pretty good.
“Hello Girls!” Said Mrs. Phillips hugging me and Goddess. Your mother gave me a call last night when they admitted her into the hospital, after you two left. I will be taking you two home with me until your mother get better and get settled. I will not see you two out on the streets.”
“Yes! Thank God. I am so glad that you showed up. I didn’t think anyone would have found out are shown up.”
“Well your mother was already aware of all that, from what she told me last night. She has been sick for several days now just was afraid of the outcome and didn’t want to have you worried about her so she stayed home and didn’t want to go to the hospital. Then all of a sudden early this morning she turned for the worse, and they still have not found out what is wrong with her. Tests are still in progress.”
Mrs. Phillips was this very wealthy friend of my mom’s. There were times she tried helping my mother out, but my mom being the person that she was she always held her own. That was the first time I knew for her to ever call her friend for anything, which told me something wasn’t right. I then knew and had funny feelings mainly after seeing my mother laying in that bed looking the way she did. Mrs. Phillips didn’t have any children of her own. It was just her and her husband living in a very big nice house, a glass house at that. It felt like my life was golden when we moved with them. The house was too big for just two people to live in. She had a maid and everything. I mean it was lovely, I never knew are seen anything like it except for on the cribs television show. But so that I was old enough to make my own decisions, I decided to just work and to not attend school. My whole focus was to work full time and save up some money, take care of Goddess, and make sure she attended school every day.
Mrs. Phillips was very nice to me and my sister; she knew what type of situation we were in and just let me go with what I had to do, and at the time working and taking care of Goddess was important to me. Every day, for six months straight it was the same routine. I got up took Goddess to the bus stop, and I headed to work, worked eight hours a day, got Goddess off of the school bus, made sure Goddess ate dinner and finished any homework that needed to be done, and we headed to the hospital to see our mother. She was still sick and trying to get well. This was a lot on me but I guess it just was a part of my mother that was inside of me. I knew that God wouldn’t put too much on me that I couldn’t bare. He was the angel beside me that gave me the strength and the positive power to get through all this the way that I did. Thank God for the extra help from Mrs. Phillips to give us a place to lay our heads.
After Six months being the mother and sister to Goddess and praying for my mother, one evening I went to the hospital alone. I left Goddess back at the house to do some studying and things like that. She wasn’t really able to handle seeing our mother like that anyway. Most of the time she waited in the waiting area. I walked into the ICU room that my mother had been in for six months. They had her in the room for such long time because they had to keep a close eye on her heart rate and blood pressure and things of that nature and she still really wasn’t breathing on her own. I realized that my mother’s eyes were open, and was on one less machine which made me happy.
“Hi Baby! I am so happy to see you,” My mother said, with a dry mouth, and a cracking voice.
“Hello mom, I am so happy to see that you are off one machine. Just want to let you know I have been handling things to the best of my ability. Goddess is still doing great in school. Mrs. Phillips been very nice. I don’t ask her for anything but she always offers. We miss you and love you so much; we want you to get better so that we can all be back together again. In the house playing cards, watching our favorite TV shows together, and the most important eating your wonderful cooking”
“I’m trying…Stay strong baby. Mommy will look over you two, I’m tired Heaven. The doctors finally figured out that I have a blood disorder disease called Lupus. I kept having different reactions to different medications and really haven’t made too much progress to do anything on my own so that’s why I been in ICU the whole time. It bothers people in many different ways like your bones, skin, and our immune system is as low as a new born baby. I sat around too long which caused it to trigger and also stress is what caused mine to trigger and they couldn’t…”
My mother’s eyes then shut. With all the machines beeping loud, heart rate dropped, thousand of doctors charging into her room. I felt it coming; I knew my mother was going to leave me and Goddess behind. My mother was tired. It felt wonderful to have those last words with my mother. I walked out of the room with calm intentions. Didn’t know how I was going to explain this to Goddess. We did a lot with our mother. She loved us like no one else would. She was my best friend, soul sister, and my mother.
Sitting in Heaven’s living room, Heaven sheds tears on Clyde’s shoulders. While Clyde holds and comforts her and kisses her on her forehead. “Clyde, I went from there. I had to be strong and continue on with my life. But receiving anything from anyone wasn’t never available for me, and that was what turned me out to be more and more like my mother, an independent woman. I kept my job, kept Goddess in school; she’ll be now entering college at College of Mount St. Joseph for Nursing. I’m so proud of her! I got a low budget apartment that went by my income; Goddess and I were back on track with our lives. We still keep in touch with Mrs. Phillips. She was a very big help and support group for us two. She helped furnish our place, and still helped me support Goddess in college. Here I am today nice apartment, nice car, and of course a wonderful job working for P&G.”
“Well… Baby I understand your pain and the struggle you went through. But remember Heaven… We are in this together. I am here for you, and I see why you are such a independent women which is a good thing. But never be afraid to receive help from someone that is willing to help you. I love you Heaven!”
“I love you too Clyde, and really appreciate your support. This is something I am just used to doing things all on my own, you know. Not having any family around to call on, no support system period. You will probably be this way also. Thank God for sending Mrs. Phillips to me and my sister, and giving us a place to eat and sleep! Baby this just the way I am, and I will try to overcome being this way just for you.”
“No problem, I just want you to get out the shell thinking you’re on your own with no one by your side, because I’m here and I am going to always be by your side. So take my hand and let’s ride down to the park and chill and relax in the shade,” Clyde, said sweetly kissing me on my forehead.
I then knew that change had to be made, and from the time Clyde and I had a wonderful talk I have changed. I have opened up a lot more and become a better person and it made Clyde happy also overall. I have come to realize that a helping hand is not too bad to receive. Our relationship has gotten so much better and I love Clyde with all my heart!
Friday, November 7, 2008
One of These Days...
One of These Days...
Emily Riesenberg
Peter woke up at 11:17 a.m. to the sound of Silverstein's "Here Today, Gone Tomorrow" blowing up his cell phone. "SHIT!" he yells. Jumping out of bed frantically, Peter throws on the same destroyed jeans he wore yesterday and grabs a shirt out of the pile of clothes covering the hardwood floor.
He checks his appearance in the mirror as he quickly brushes his teeth. His shaggy brown hair is matted to his head, his eyes barely visible through his bangs. He spits in the sink and turns back to the mirror. Peter runs his fingers through his hair, shrugs his shoulders in approval and drops a flat billed hat on his head. He checks his cell phone for the time and runs out the door, grabbing his skateboard on the way out.
Racing down the stairs in Stratford Heights, Peter stops at the market to grab a small breakfast, settling for a Mountain Dew. He takes a sip as he walks out the door, hops on his skateboard and is finally on his way to practice.
Cruising down the street, Peter begin's to think about the day's events. First order of business, band practice, if he makes it in time. It was scheduled to start at 11:30, which was rapidly approaching. Next up, homework (yay college!), and if he was lucky, he would get to see Carrie, his newest crush. Before he could get too carried away with his obsession, Peter arrived at a little brick ranch house with blue shutters.
Inside the basement awaited his three best friends and fellow bandmates; Landon, the Italian and ruggedly good looking lead singer, Ryan, the smart-yet-lacking-common-sense guitarist, and Chris, the sloppy and insanely original yet hilarious drummer.
"Way to show up on time, slick!" Chris yells as Peter walks in the door.
"Yeah, whatever, man! I'm two minutes late." says Peter, half heartedly defending himself.
"Well pass the tardy sauce," Chris taunts.
"Shut up, let's play!" Landon chimes in.
The four hopefuls pick up their instruments and start to play their newest single. A song entitled "Write Out Loud," written by Peter about a secret love.
"One of these days," Peter thought, "one of these days..."
Emily Riesenberg
Peter woke up at 11:17 a.m. to the sound of Silverstein's "Here Today, Gone Tomorrow" blowing up his cell phone. "SHIT!" he yells. Jumping out of bed frantically, Peter throws on the same destroyed jeans he wore yesterday and grabs a shirt out of the pile of clothes covering the hardwood floor.
He checks his appearance in the mirror as he quickly brushes his teeth. His shaggy brown hair is matted to his head, his eyes barely visible through his bangs. He spits in the sink and turns back to the mirror. Peter runs his fingers through his hair, shrugs his shoulders in approval and drops a flat billed hat on his head. He checks his cell phone for the time and runs out the door, grabbing his skateboard on the way out.
Racing down the stairs in Stratford Heights, Peter stops at the market to grab a small breakfast, settling for a Mountain Dew. He takes a sip as he walks out the door, hops on his skateboard and is finally on his way to practice.
Cruising down the street, Peter begin's to think about the day's events. First order of business, band practice, if he makes it in time. It was scheduled to start at 11:30, which was rapidly approaching. Next up, homework (yay college!), and if he was lucky, he would get to see Carrie, his newest crush. Before he could get too carried away with his obsession, Peter arrived at a little brick ranch house with blue shutters.
Inside the basement awaited his three best friends and fellow bandmates; Landon, the Italian and ruggedly good looking lead singer, Ryan, the smart-yet-lacking-common-sense guitarist, and Chris, the sloppy and insanely original yet hilarious drummer.
"Way to show up on time, slick!" Chris yells as Peter walks in the door.
"Yeah, whatever, man! I'm two minutes late." says Peter, half heartedly defending himself.
"Well pass the tardy sauce," Chris taunts.
"Shut up, let's play!" Landon chimes in.
The four hopefuls pick up their instruments and start to play their newest single. A song entitled "Write Out Loud," written by Peter about a secret love.
"One of these days," Peter thought, "one of these days..."
Lupon draws a comic
By: Cole Emoff
Lupon is reading a newspaper.
"Hey Trumpernaught, pass me the fuckin' newspaper!"
"But Lupon, you already have it."
"I know that you fuckin' dickweed."
"Lupon, check out the comic on the bottom of the page."
Lupon's weird bird type animal face glances down to the bottom of the newspaper. He sees a comic strip and reads it aloud.
" 'I failed the fucking test.' 'Well I passed it Lupon.' (next frame) 'But I fucking copied off you!' (next frame) 'Yo Teach, you failed me on the test! Me and Trumpernaught had the same answers. What gives?' (next frame) 'Well let me take a look at the test... Well for instance on number 23 Trumpernaught put I don't know and you put Me niether!' "
"What the fuck? These prickle dicks used us for their fucking comic! I'm gonna go teach 'em who's boss."
"I don't think that's such a good idea, Lupon."
"Get the fuck outta my way." Lupon says as he throws a glass vase that shatters over Trumpernaughts head.
Lupon is somehow inside of the President's office who runs the newspaper.
"Hey buttcandy, you made a comic strip out of me and my friend without asking us!"
Moving his head in awkward motions, tilting it from side to side, the man says, "Umm, I'm not the one who draws the comics here, I'm just the guy in charge."
"Well, you're gonna learn a lesson when you learn how to put your butt up your asshole and blow horse radish out of your nose, you fucking asshole!"
Lupon picks up the half man, half chicken and throws him out of the ten story window. The chicken/man falls to his death.
"Now I just gotta find the fucker who drew the comic strip."
"Uh oh Lupon." Trumpernaught says "Look who drew the comic strip."
Lupon takes a closer look at the comic strip and sees that it says "Author: Lupon"
"What the fuck!?" Lupon says as he closes his eyes and sees himself at a table in an office wearing a button up shirt and glasses while painting a comic strip.
Lupon picks up the dead chicken/man/newspaper company president and starts pouring out tears.
"What have I done, Trumpernaught?! What... have... I... Done..."
Lupon falls to his knees ever so slowly and looks up to the sky as he continues to cry.
Just another day
Pushing the button on the silver coffee maker, Jasmine scratched her forehead before looking around the kitchen. Her small brown eyes darted to the black clock on the wall. It read 6:45.
Am I forgetting to do something?, she asked herself biting her bottom lip. Biting her lips was something she did whenever she was nervous or concentrating. When she was younger her mother had tried everything to get her to stop. Her lips once rosy and soft, were now filled with small black spots from years of biting. After staring into space, Jasmine bent at her waist to lift a rack of tall water glasses. Carefully placing the glasses next to the pop machine, Jasmine wiped the water that had sipped leaked from the faucet.
The kitchen door suddenly swung open and out strutted a stocky young man with cropped hair. Adjusting his black and gray stripped tie, the man ran his hand over the front of his suit jacket.
"Do you have your game face on today?", he asked glancing in Jasmine's direction.
"Why are we going to be busy today?," she asked. The corners of her mouth slowly began to rise. I can finally put a dent in my debt, she thought to herself.
"You should always be ready, the restaurant could be busy at any time," he said.
Rolling her eyes and letting out a huge sigh, Jasmine began to frown. I don't know why I get my hopes up, she thought to herself.
7:00 Jasmine murmured to herself . I guess I will just have to deal with another slow day, she thought. She pulled her wavy brown hair into a ponytail that hung loosely at the base of her neck. She grabbed her blue apron and tightly secured it around her waist. She took one final look at her reflection and forced a huge smile on her face. She began humming to herself as she walked out of the kitchen and into the dining room.
Am I forgetting to do something?, she asked herself biting her bottom lip. Biting her lips was something she did whenever she was nervous or concentrating. When she was younger her mother had tried everything to get her to stop. Her lips once rosy and soft, were now filled with small black spots from years of biting. After staring into space, Jasmine bent at her waist to lift a rack of tall water glasses. Carefully placing the glasses next to the pop machine, Jasmine wiped the water that had sipped leaked from the faucet.
The kitchen door suddenly swung open and out strutted a stocky young man with cropped hair. Adjusting his black and gray stripped tie, the man ran his hand over the front of his suit jacket.
"Do you have your game face on today?", he asked glancing in Jasmine's direction.
"Why are we going to be busy today?," she asked. The corners of her mouth slowly began to rise. I can finally put a dent in my debt, she thought to herself.
"You should always be ready, the restaurant could be busy at any time," he said.
Rolling her eyes and letting out a huge sigh, Jasmine began to frown. I don't know why I get my hopes up, she thought to herself.
7:00 Jasmine murmured to herself . I guess I will just have to deal with another slow day, she thought. She pulled her wavy brown hair into a ponytail that hung loosely at the base of her neck. She grabbed her blue apron and tightly secured it around her waist. She took one final look at her reflection and forced a huge smile on her face. She began humming to herself as she walked out of the kitchen and into the dining room.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Wine and Crayons by: sarah rovito
As soon as Michael and I walked into the supermarket I could feel myself needing a drink. There were certain things I needed and there were certain things Michael needed.I needed milk and toilet paper and ground beef, Midol for the pains and red wine for the other pains. Onions and garlic and tomato sauce. Perhaps some fancy shaped pasta just in case Henry ever decides to come for dinner again. Michael needed diapers, Play-Doh, applesauce, and crayons. He pulls me hard with one of his large, fleshy, sticky hands towards the cake display.
“Mom, can I? Can I? Can I?”
“Michael! Stop shouting!” I explode.
He presses his innocent, sticky face on the glass window of the case and eyes the colorful graduation, birthday, and congratulation cakes with lust. I remember for his birthday last year I got him a store bought cake with a clown on it holding a bunch of colored balloons on which were written, “Happy 17th Birthday, Michael.” He cried when I scolded him for eating it with his hands.
I take him by the arm and we move onward. There are more things I need. I need makeup and pantyhose for the job interviews, a fresh pack of ballpoint pens, envelopes, and whiteout. Michael needs handiwipes and Kool-Aid mix and Band-aids with dinosaurs on them. As I watch him systematically fondle himself, pick his nose, and suspiciously eye the lobster tank all at once, I realize there are things we both need that are not on my list. I need hope and support and sanity. I need comfort and strength. Michael needs friends who are like him, acceptance, and a complete brain.
“Michael!” I bark, as I swat his hands, “18-year-old boys do not do that in public.” And I take his arm and we go to get more red wine.
“Mom, can I? Can I? Can I?”
“Michael! Stop shouting!” I explode.
He presses his innocent, sticky face on the glass window of the case and eyes the colorful graduation, birthday, and congratulation cakes with lust. I remember for his birthday last year I got him a store bought cake with a clown on it holding a bunch of colored balloons on which were written, “Happy 17th Birthday, Michael.” He cried when I scolded him for eating it with his hands.
I take him by the arm and we move onward. There are more things I need. I need makeup and pantyhose for the job interviews, a fresh pack of ballpoint pens, envelopes, and whiteout. Michael needs handiwipes and Kool-Aid mix and Band-aids with dinosaurs on them. As I watch him systematically fondle himself, pick his nose, and suspiciously eye the lobster tank all at once, I realize there are things we both need that are not on my list. I need hope and support and sanity. I need comfort and strength. Michael needs friends who are like him, acceptance, and a complete brain.
“Michael!” I bark, as I swat his hands, “18-year-old boys do not do that in public.” And I take his arm and we go to get more red wine.
Drill Baby, Drill by Michael Vernon
Deeper and deeper the drill went, vibrating the whole platform. John’s knees were shaking almost as much as the floor he was standing on. He knows he shouldn’t be this nervous, that he’s been on hundreds of oil drills before, but this one seemed different. First of all, they have never drilled this deep before. Secondly, something seemed to be trying to stop the crew form drilling here. The derrick took three times as long to build than what’s normal. Freak accidents, such as trucks getting lost, random dust storms, and even a meteorite hitting the tower, are what caused such delays. John never gave much thought to superstition, but this project can’t help but send shivers down his spine.
Steve, looking at the dials that showed how deep the drill was, yelled to John.
“Five-thousand, two-hundred, sixty feet, sir. Just twenty more to go.”
Great, thought John. Soon this will be over, and I can tell my nerves to stop break dancing in my stomach.
The oil company’s new oil-imaging computer is the reason why the crew is digging in this Godforsaken part of the Texas plains. The land was flat, barren, and nothing green and growing as far as the eye could see. It was technically not dry enough to be considered a desert, but that made the lifelessness even more frightening. Wasteland was the only word for it, but the computers found something of value down in the depths beneath the cracked ground, something so valuable that it caused the oil company to invest so much money on this outrageous endeavor. A huge area of blackness, a mile under the surface and extending farther than the sensors could, was viewed by the money-hungry executives and caused their mouths to leak. No one could believe that such a vast expanse of oil was possible, but when the computer showed black, that meant black gold. John was called in.
“John, you’re the best drill manager we have. We don’t want anyone else on a project this important, and this profitable."
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll get right on it.”
Now, nine months later, John wishes he would have said no, even if it would have cost him his job. He couldn’t explain it, but this sight just felt…evil.
“Ten more feet, John.”
Great, he thought, it’s like some demented New Year’s countdown…
“Nine”
Yep, his stomach is really going now.
“Eight”
Is the sky getting darker?
“Seven”
Thank you, Dick Clark…
“Oi, it just jumped a couple of feet! We’re at four now.”
Ok, more like Regis that one time he did it.
“Three”
Wait, oil should have started bubbling by now…
“Two”
Like a silent gunshot, the drill shaft suddenly got sucked through the hole. John looked wide-eyed at the pit oil should be gushing out of.
“What the hell?” Steve yelled.
Quietly, a small noise began. It started as a slight screeching, barely audible amongst the shouting of the derrick-workers. John heard it, though, and it grew louder. Different sounds started to mingle with the screech, deathly bellows, blood curdling screams, the cries of things unimaginable. As the noises grew louder, the workers stopped their yelling and listened, horrified. John, though, had heard from the beginning, and had time to gather his wits. He grabbed the P.A. from the control room wall.
“Everyone off the tower!”
It was not soon enough, though. As the sound reached a deafening pitch, a blast of fire shot out of the hole in the ground, climbing up the tower and melting everything in its path. John looked on in horror as his whole crew, save Steve and a few technicians, died in a baleful blaze. Dropping the microphone, he noticed a fiery figure shoot through the inferno, then another, and another. Dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of the demonic figures rose up though the flames, circling the sky like hellspawn vultures. John’s mouth said the words, “My God, what have we done?” His mind was too busy trying to get his feet disconnected from the floor.
Steve, looking at the dials that showed how deep the drill was, yelled to John.
“Five-thousand, two-hundred, sixty feet, sir. Just twenty more to go.”
Great, thought John. Soon this will be over, and I can tell my nerves to stop break dancing in my stomach.
The oil company’s new oil-imaging computer is the reason why the crew is digging in this Godforsaken part of the Texas plains. The land was flat, barren, and nothing green and growing as far as the eye could see. It was technically not dry enough to be considered a desert, but that made the lifelessness even more frightening. Wasteland was the only word for it, but the computers found something of value down in the depths beneath the cracked ground, something so valuable that it caused the oil company to invest so much money on this outrageous endeavor. A huge area of blackness, a mile under the surface and extending farther than the sensors could, was viewed by the money-hungry executives and caused their mouths to leak. No one could believe that such a vast expanse of oil was possible, but when the computer showed black, that meant black gold. John was called in.
“John, you’re the best drill manager we have. We don’t want anyone else on a project this important, and this profitable."
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll get right on it.”
Now, nine months later, John wishes he would have said no, even if it would have cost him his job. He couldn’t explain it, but this sight just felt…evil.
“Ten more feet, John.”
Great, he thought, it’s like some demented New Year’s countdown…
“Nine”
Yep, his stomach is really going now.
“Eight”
Is the sky getting darker?
“Seven”
Thank you, Dick Clark…
“Oi, it just jumped a couple of feet! We’re at four now.”
Ok, more like Regis that one time he did it.
“Three”
Wait, oil should have started bubbling by now…
“Two”
Like a silent gunshot, the drill shaft suddenly got sucked through the hole. John looked wide-eyed at the pit oil should be gushing out of.
“What the hell?” Steve yelled.
Quietly, a small noise began. It started as a slight screeching, barely audible amongst the shouting of the derrick-workers. John heard it, though, and it grew louder. Different sounds started to mingle with the screech, deathly bellows, blood curdling screams, the cries of things unimaginable. As the noises grew louder, the workers stopped their yelling and listened, horrified. John, though, had heard from the beginning, and had time to gather his wits. He grabbed the P.A. from the control room wall.
“Everyone off the tower!”
It was not soon enough, though. As the sound reached a deafening pitch, a blast of fire shot out of the hole in the ground, climbing up the tower and melting everything in its path. John looked on in horror as his whole crew, save Steve and a few technicians, died in a baleful blaze. Dropping the microphone, he noticed a fiery figure shoot through the inferno, then another, and another. Dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of the demonic figures rose up though the flames, circling the sky like hellspawn vultures. John’s mouth said the words, “My God, what have we done?” His mind was too busy trying to get his feet disconnected from the floor.
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